Alone
by RixxiSpooks
Summary: She loses everything to the Telmarines: her friends, her family, her country... Ten year old Lucy is left, alone and guilt-ridden, roaming Narnia in the hope of rebuilding her shattered life. Multiple Character Death. Pretty damn sad. Even for me to write
1. The Tragedy of War

**Author's Note- Okay, this is only my second Narnian fic and its set as a sort of AU to Prince Caspian the Movie from the Battle of Beruna onwards. There is quite a bit of angst and gory details so you have been warned. This isn't very Disney! **

The battle was raging. Shouts of anger and screams of pain tore across the usually peaceful region. Metal swords crashed with the violence and ferocity to rival a thunderclap. Claws, paws and teeth raked at bare skin – tearing out hunks of flesh. The grass was drenched with scarlet blood, making it slick and treacherous. Horses reared and kicked and whinnied in the chaos, their eyes white marbles of panic and fear. Huge clouds of dust enveloped the fighters, created by the towering, mechanical trebuchets that launched boulders with devastating effect. Each victim was thrown off their feet or crushed by the heavy rocks. The world smelt of sweat and the tangy metallic scent of fresh blood.

In the midst of it all, four brave soldiers fought hard. They twisted and span within their enemy's ranks as if completing some gruesome dance, of which the punishment for a mistake would be, undoubtedly, death. Three boys and one girl – battling for their lives and the lives of those around them. Their weapons flashed in the midday sun as they glanced from one opponent to the next. Even with each of their skill, the four were struggling to defeat the enormous numbers which were bearing down on them. Despite their earlier ingenuity in warfare, the sheer force of the Telmarine army was overwhelming their soldiers. As they engaged in combat they saw their friends and allies falling beside them – cut down where they stood. They would be next.

A coal-haired head ducked and darted between the slicing, slashing blades of the enemy. With two swords in hand, he fended off as many soldiers as he could. A blow here. A thrust there. Then a parry. The constant movement was exhausting and, despite the adrenaline flowing through his veins, fatigue was fast setting in. His muscles ached. Looking to his left, he spotted his sister occupied in a fierce one-on-one struggle with a rugged Telmarine soldier. She was fighting valiantly but obviously tiredness was affecting her too because the man was definitely landing more blows. Concerned for her safety, the boy finished off his current adversary and ploughed his way towards her, through the sea of soldiers.

And then, to his horror, he watched as the Telmarine knocked the bow from her hand and threw it into the dirt. Fear darkened his sister's grey eyes as she found herself unarmed and helpless. She backed away, suddenly completely vulnerable. That was when the man plunged forward and ran his sword through her stomach. She doubled over like a broken twig, her mouth open with shock. The man withdrew his weapon, a satisfied smirk curling on his lips. With a distraught cry, the boy lunged at his sister's murderer from behind and killed him on the spot.

Blood rushed in his ears and the battle around him suddenly became mute as he approached his fallen sister. Her dark hair pooled around her head and her face was pale. A small trickle of crimson liquid trickled from her thin, closed lips as her chest rose one last time and then stopped. The boy forgot to breathe as his world came crashing down around his ears. His sister…was dead.

Full of vengeful anger, the dead girl's brother turned and launched himself into the battle once more – his head a whirl with fury, sadness, despair, guilt… In his mind there was no point in worrying about death anymore. He'd lost his sister, what did it matter if he lost his life too? Guilt-ridden and mourning, the young man neglected to remember the rest of his precious family.

As if his wish had been granted, minutes later, a well-placed arrow found its way hurtling through the air to embed its head and shaft deep into his back. The boy pitched forward, adding his body to the many corpses already strewn there.

* * *

One sibling remained on the battle field, unaware of his brother and sister's ghastly fate. He fought bravely, clashing swords with many opponents in his bid to rid Narnia of these terrible foes. The sun beat down mercilessly, plastering golden locks to his sweaty head. But he was oblivious to nature's ironic games, too engrossed in combat. To his left, he was aware of an ally, battling ferociously: Prince Caspian. The young Telmarine struck several blows to his current enemy and then moved onto the next. They covered each other's backs.

A tumult of caws, barks, screeches and roars could be heard over the din of clanging metal and the golden haired boy was aware that his army still fought hard – giving all they had despite depleting numbers. Soon they would be overwhelmed, in his head he knew this but his heart would never give up. He had not killed Miraz for nothing.

Suddenly a searing pain lashed through his body, spreading out from his chest. He was aware of a warm, dampness spreading across his already red jerkin. The burning agony increased tenfold and the boy felt his knees buckled beneath him – giving out to the weight. He had no idea how he had been wounded or who indeed had committed the act of killing a High King, but what he did know was that the world was becoming dimmer by the second as blackness clouded his vision.

As he slipped from consciousness, the young man just hoped that all his siblings were safe.

Caspian was the only one left, he had watched each of the Kings and Queen of Old perish in the midst of the ferocious battle and felt a small piece of his soul die with each of them. He knew that the battle was lost. He knew that no matter what they did now they could never hope to defeat the Telmarines. And he knew that there was no way he would get out of this fight alive. But what he _hoped_ was for the last remaining Pevensie to survive. They couldn't all die.

* * *

Lucy was alone. The Telmarine soldiers had long since stopped chasing her and now she just trotted through the fast darkening forest feeling scared and isolated. Around her the trees were silent and ominous – not like they used to be. She just wanted her brothers and sisters with her. They made her feel safe. _Oh Aslan, where are you? _She thought. Had she been wrong all this time? Had she really been imaging things? Surely the Great Lion would have revealed himself to her by now. Perhaps Peter was right; maybe she was seeing what she wanted but what wasn't truly there. That thought chilled her to the bone.

Not only did she feel abandoned by Aslan but she felt ashamed for letting her siblings down. They had been counting on her to bring reinforcements back to aid them in their fierce and awful battle. If she came back empty-handed would they be greatly disappointed? She was sure Peter would be. He counted on her; he had trusted her to find Aslan. And she had failed. A terrible, sick feeling welled up in the pit of Lucy's stomach and she wanted to cry. _Why hasn't Aslan come? How could he do this to us? To me?_

Finally, the young girl decided that she had travelled enough. Even her optimistic spirit could not sustain the thought that Aslan was still out there waiting for her. With a leaden heart, Lucy pulled on her horse's reins and turned its dark head round, back the way they had come. It was time to get back to the others.

* * *

By the time Lucy reached the How she was aware things were not how they should be. Everything seemed unnaturally quiet and with every step her horse took a feeling of foreboding rose within her. Even Prince Caspian's horse seemed to sense the unease as it tensed and snorted agitatedly. Lucy's knuckles were white as she gripped the leather reins. Her breathing was short and uneven.

The youngster had never even entertained the idea that the Narnian's would lose the Battle of Beruna. She had always assumed that when she returned there would be joy and merriment and victory – like last time. But last time, she reminded herself, they had had Aslan and reinforcements. This time Lucy had failed. So when the little girl rode her large, ebony mount through the trees onto the field that led up to the How she was not really expecting the sight that met her eyes.

In the half-light of the moon, the scene was probably all the more disturbing, with the bluish glow that fell upon the great expanse of land. It was the stench that reached Lucy's nose first, it was intense to the point of overwhelming – a cloying, stomach-turning smell that a seasoned warrior would immediately recognise as the scent of blood. However, Lucy was a child and still illiterate in the essences of warfare. Her mind was too innocent to comprehend the blood-shed.

Gazing out onto the plain of grass, the young Queen registered some lumpy outlines on the ground and it was a moment before she realised what they were: hundreds of corpses. All left there to rot and decompose. By this time, Lucy's eyes were wide and glassy, unsure of what all these signs meant.

Uncertainly, the child clambered down from her horse and began to walk. She stumbled through the mounds of bodies – her mind fighting her body in an effort to stop her stomach rebelling. There were so many dead. Lucy could not even fathom the amount of lives had been lost today; the amount of families that had lost a father, a mother, a brother, a husband. Silent tears trickled down her cheeks leaving stinging salty trails in their wake. Would she too be one of the mourners?

Above her, at the top of the field, the How stood empty and desolate, its entrance blocked by a pile of heavy stones. If there was no one in there then where were all the Narnians? Where were her siblings? They couldn't all be dead, could they?

Something caught on Lucy's boot and she tripped, almost sprawling into the mud. She retained her balance though, and looked down at what had caused her to almost fall. It was an elegantly carved bow….Susan's bow. With her heart in her mouth, the young girl spun on the spot and began calling.

"Susan? Susan! Susan!" But wait, why should she just call for her sister? She should call for her brothers too; maybe they would hear her and reply. "Peter? Edmund? Peter! Susan! Edmund!"

Lucy's throat became hoarse. She had shouted for what seemed like hours and had received no answer. Just as despair was overcoming the youngster, her eye caught sight of something to her right; something completely and utterly devastating. Susan's body lay prone of the blood-sodden earth, bent and broken. Lucy had never seen her sister in such a way and it would scar her for life. Her strong, brave, caring sister lay on the ground like a soiled rag-doll – torn and hurt beyond repair. Collapsing to her knees beside the corpse, the young girl let out a choked cry and allowed the tears to flow, hot and free, down her face.

Eventually, she had to leave her sister and move on in the hope of finding one of her other siblings – alive. Though she didn't hold out much hope. If they were alive they would never have left Susan alone in the middle of a deserted battle-field. That's what scared her.

It was Prince Caspian she found next, the lower part of his torso and legs were buried beneath a huge boulder – no doubt thrown by one of the trebuchets. Obviously the shock and the crush injuries had killed the young man. Seeing the surprised look on his face and his still wide open, unseeing eyes, Lucy decided she didn't want to go looking for her brothers; she couldn't. There was little uncertainty they too were dead. All the Narnians were dead.

Lucy was alone.

**As I said, gory and angsty...so what does Lucy do next? Review to find out! Please!**


	2. A Safe Haven

**Author's Note - Wow, thank you all so much for the kind reviews. I'm glad you are enjoying the story so far and want me to update. Therefore I have complied with your wishes and given you the next chapter.**

Lucy was exhausted. Her gut-wrenching sobs had wracked her small frame for hours and now she was left feeling empty and hollow. Her dress was drenched with salty tears and her hair was matted and damp. Every breath she attempted hitched painfully in her throat. She felt like a wrung out dishcloth. In her head, her entire life had become unravelled; she had lost her entire family. Well, not Mother and Father but they were so far away that they too didn't bear thinking about. Lucy couldn't imagine having to tell her mother why her three oldest children would not be returning home. That thought alone brought back the agonising guilt that still plagued her. This was her fault; if she had found Aslan and reinforcements, or at least been present in the battle, then maybe she could have done something, saved them. Instead she was the only one to survive. The Telmarines had won.

Rising wearily to her feet, the girl touched her sister's raven hair one last time, feeling the softness and suppleness of the beautiful locks. She had to go now; she couldn't remain at this scene of carnage forever. Lucy wandered slightly to the left, heading for her horse which waited patiently by the entrance to the How. However, she didn't cut a straight path through the bodies, she wanted to see how many more of her friends had perished. Eventually her gaze sought out Trumpkin, lying face down in the dirt, his auburn hair tangled with blood, she turned him over so he would still have some dignity. And then she found the Glenstorm, Reepicheep, Trufflehunter….all killed in this ridiculous war. She wondered whether her cordial, still strapped tightly to her belt, would help any of them. No, it was too late; _she _had arrived too late.

The girl had still not found either of her brothers and was about to give up hope when she found one of them.

When she caught sight of his handsome face, battered and bruised, her whole world seemed to freeze. His golden hair fell lifelessly across his forehead and his eyes, like Caspian's, were wide and staring. Lucy dropped to her knees and stared at her big brother - her infallible, noble big brother -and felt her heart shatter into even smaller pieces than it already was. Her own reddened and swollen eyes filled with tears once more that gathered and then dribbled down her pale cheeks. Reaching out, she stroked his smooth, cold skin – it was like touching marble. Her small hand traced the contours of his face and withdrew very gently. Slowly, her gaze travelled down his body and came to rest on the dagger embedded deep in his chest. The hilt was the only part of the blade showing, silver and cruel. This was what had killed him. Up until this point she had almost refused to believe that Peter, _her_ Peter, was dead. Here was her proof, vivid and unquestionable.

Lucy jumped to her feet, her body suddenly seized by unimaginable pain, and then she fled. Fled from the field of corpses, from the deaths of her friends, her siblings, and into the still dark depths of the forest.

As she ran through the unfriendly trunks, she found her skin being scratched and her clothes torn by the wizened fingers of malicious trees. Their long limbs twisted beneath her feet in an effort to trip her up, unbalance her, but she kept on running, her heart pounding against her ribs, her lungs struggling for breath. Until she fell. Her legs flying out from beneath her as she sprawled, face down, onto the leafy floor. She didn't bother getting up, what was the point? Instead, she curled herself into a ball and wept.

* * *

It was Lucy's ears that awakened her. They had heard something in her unconsciousness that roused the rest of her mind. Still curled in her tight ball, the youngest Pevensie listened to the sounds that filled the morning air around her. Beneath her slender form, she felt the earth quake. She deciphered from both the noise and the movement that the Telmarine army was very close by. They hadn't yet left the destruction left behind. Perhaps they had camped nearby, overnight, before heading back to the castle in the morning. Struck by a sudden feeling of irrepressible anger, Lucy found herself wanting to leap out hiding and take as many soldiers down with her small dagger as she could. Maybe, in some way, that would begin to suffice for the devastation they had caused her. _Don't be silly_, she reprimanded herself. That would be a waste if life on both sides. _Peter wouldn't have wanted you to do it…_

Thinking of her dead brother certainly sobered the child up and she elected to remain completely silent until the large army had passed by.

In the light of day, Lucy wasn't sure whether things look more or less desolate. The trees around her didn't look quite so menacing as they had last night and so she wasn't so scared. But she felt even more alone than before. She had left the battleground, she had left her horse, and there was no way she would ever return to that abominable place. She was truly on her own.

The young girl climbed slowly to her feet and looked at the sunlight that melted through the green leaves of the trees - it cast soft shadows and pools of unbroken light on the floor. This was the Narnia she loved but she couldn't enjoy it. Not now.

Feeling extremely vulnerable and wanting to put as much distance between herself and the Telmarines who had savagely murdered her siblings, Lucy began to walk. She needed somewhere she could go which was safe and familiar. Considering it was thirteen hundred years since she'd last been here, that narrowed it down significantly. In her mind, there was only one place she could journey to.

* * *

Hunger and thirst only occasionally flitted across Lucy's mind as she trekked. They seemed so unimportant and irrelevant now. Those were feelings she associated with living and, in all honesty, the young child didn't know whether she wanted to be alive anymore. She may be moving, but in her head Lucy still felt like she was curled up in that useless, hopeless, little ball, waiting for nature to finish her off.

Familiar things caught her eye, things that no one else would really register but assured the girl she was on the right track: a gnarled tree here, an oddly shaped rock there, a fissure that looked like a face in the cliff. Her feet splashed through streams and rivers, drenching her boots and soaking her underskirts, but she didn't care. Not in the slightest.

Her hands were red and raw from scrambling on rocks and catching on the rough bark of tree trunks. Her knees, also, bore the bumps and grazes of someone who had fallen over too numerous a time to count. This would never have happened before, not if her brothers were here or her sister. They wouldn't have let her get hurt.

Lucy was like a blind man who had lost his dog.

Her route was longer than before – she didn't know how long for she neglected to register night and day – because, for one thing, she didn't have a boat or her family to chivvy her along. She did have sheer determination, however, and unrelenting willpower.

* * *

It was on what must have been the fourth or fifth day that Lucy's bare feet (she had long since removed her boots for they caused her nothing but pain and blisters) hit soft, forgiving sand and she felt a sense of relief was over her. Looking out to her left, she watched the gentle, sapphire blue waves of the sea lap against the white, sandy shore.

Her heart was warmed by happy memories. The four of them full of excitement and anticipation at having returned to Narnia. Their minds on nothing but the fresh sea air, the beauty of their surroundings and the wonderful company of each other. Oh how much had changed since then.

Lucy's situation had certainly changed but the place itself hadn't. It was still as magical and unreal as she remembered it. She was almost tempted to run down the beach and splash around in the shallows – like they had before – but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Somehow it would be disrespectful to their memories. Instead, the small girl turned to the huge, rambling ruins, which jewelled the cliff top above, and felt a tiny smile find its way onto her lips. This is what she remembered, this was her safe haven: Cair Paravel.

Suddenly all her cuts and scrapes and bruises didn't matter anymore. She was back where they had started. The place she held all her most treasure recollections. Swiftly, Lucy tottered up to the ruinous palace and found herself among everything she had once loved. It may not be a whole building anymore but she still cherished it – it was her home.

Lucy tried to pick an apple from the apple tree they had planted all those years ago but found she couldn't reach. _Before, _she reminded herself; _Peter picked the apple for you_. The heavy lump in her throat formed again. However, instead of crying, Lucy decided to overcome to problem herself and clambered up a nearby ruined wall and managed to pluck the ripe fruit from its branch that way. _Peter would never have let you do that by yourself. You are going to have to be much more independent now; more daring and brave. _

Crunching the hard, juicy flesh of the apple in her mouth and ignoring the sweet, sticky liquid that dribbled down her chin, Lucy continued to explore the rocky remnants of Cair Paravel as the sun shone pleasantly down on her back.

She discovered another piece of Edmund's golden chess set. The small king shone, glinting in the light, as it lay, forgotten, in the grass which grew from beneath the plinths of stone. As her small hand closed around the cool, metal object, Lucy vowed never to lose it. Much to her regret and shame, she had never found Edmund's body back in Beruna, for she had been too shocked by Peter's and had fled immediately. Therefore this was her way of saying goodbye. This token was her piece of her brother.


	3. Scars and Memories

**Author's Note - I'm ill, so I thought I'd grace you with another chapter. Thank you for the kind reviews. I promise things will get more exciting. Oh, and I'm sorry for making some of you sad that they have died. That's the point! *evil laugh***

The sand was cool beneath her feet and the shadowy interior of the cave caused the sand to be grey compared to the dazzling white of the beach outside. And the air felt damper and heavier, laced with the salty smell of seaweed and lichen. Lucy tried not to feel scared or apprehensive as she ventured further into the towering cavern. Well, she now realised, it wasn't a cave it was a tunnel. She could see another beach on the other side.

This was where they had come through all those days ago; when the tube station had transformed into a rocky duplicate. Lucy supposed she had arrived here with the vague hope of some answers. She hadn't really known what would happen, perhaps she would return home or perhaps, by some brilliant stroke of luck, Aslan would be waiting. No such luck paid out.

Despite running her delicate fingers along the rough, damp walls of the limestone tunnel, Lucy found no magic presence. There was no tingly feeling that transported her back to her own world. The little girl didn't know whether she was disappointed or not, she just felt exhausted.

Stepping back out into the sunshine, Lucy stared solemnly at the sea and at the peaks of rock that rose out of the glittering waters like the fins of huge sharks. She watched waves break steadily over the obstacles in their path, gushing white and frothy.

Dropping onto the soft sand, the little girl continued to gaze at the huge, wide world around her and feel so small and insignificant and alone.

A seagull swooped and dove in the cerulean sky, skimming over the waves in search of flashes of silvery fish. Lucy wondered whether it was a Talking Beast and whether she could make friends with it. She doubted it, though, as she remembered the fearsome bear on the beach who had attacked her. She also recalled Trumpkin's warning words, "Narnia may be a more savage place than you remember." Lucy knew that she would have to be careful who and what she approached.

Obviously, from the evidence presented to her in the form of the closed portal into her world, Lucy was not meant to leave Narnia yet. But what was she supposed to do in the meantime?

_Maybe, _a little voice said in her head, _you should think about practicalities: food, water, shelter, clothes… _Lucy was hard pressed not to agree with the voice as her stomach rumbled loudly. That apple she had eaten earlier was not enough to quell it; she had just served to increase her hunger.

Struggling to her feet, the young Queen made her way back up to Cair Paravel.

* * *

Lucy was quietly humming to herself as she slipped into the Treasure Room. Her bare soles, already toughened by walking, were barely affected by the bits of shingle and debris littering the floor. She tried to ignore the memory of her and her siblings coming her not that long ago. It just made her want to cry and curl up again.

Sifting through her beautifully carved marble box, Lucy found several things that would be of use to her. One was a new dress. The garment she currently wore was torn and ragged, soiled with days of journeying through the forest. The second was money – several large gold coins. These would help her if she ever needed to acquire food or drink or more supplies. And finally she uncovered an old, forgotten leather bag, buried near the bottom of the trunk. It would serve the purpose of carrying all her other things perfectly. With a pang of pain, the youngster remembered Edmund had brought a satchel, almost identical to this, through with him when they first arrived. She pushed that memory to the back of her mind, fiercely reprimanding herself.

However, it wouldn't do for her to travel around Narnia unarmed and vulnerable. Before, her brothers had always protected her and she had no need of a better weapon than her trusty dagger. Even Father Christmas had told her should never fight unless it was absolutely necessary. But things had changed and the kind, old man could never have foreseen the predicament Lucy was in now. Therefore, with a deep, lungful of breath, the small girl plucked up the courage to open her brother's box.

Initially she opened Peter's box but then she felt foolish because all his swords, axes and bows were far too large for her. Hoping for more luck with Susan's chest, Lucy found that she didn't even own any weapons other than her bow and she had taken that with her to battle. Feeling like little Goldilocks trying out chairs, the youngest Pevensie turned finally to Edmund's trunk.

Fortunately, Edmund's tools seemed to meet her needs both in type and size – well, they were still rather too big but more tolerable than the High King's. Lucy felt terrible as she sheathed her brother's spare sword on her belt and shrugged his shield over her shoulders. She felt like she was robbing the dead; which in essence she was.

_But needs must_, she thought, grimly.

Now all there was left was to find food. There were plenty of apples on the tree outside but Lucy knew they could not sustain her forever. However, she discovered as she searched the surrounding area and found nothing; they would have to suffice for now.

* * *

Sweat peppered the child's brow as she finally collapsed in a weary heap on the plinth which supported the four royal thrones. Lucy vowed she would never sit upon her Queen's seat again. It wouldn't feel right.

Beside her, on the warm stone, sat four shiny red apples – all hand-picked and waiting to be eaten. Why had she picked four? Why that number? In her heart, Lucy knew. She no longer felt hungry.

Night was falling and Lucy wanted to make a fire. She recalled a lesson with Peter, who had patiently demonstrated to her how to use stones, some very dry kindling and a quick snap of the wrist to create the flames. At the time she had been distracted and uncooperative but her eldest brother had persisted.

"Lu," he had said with complete sincerity, "We mightn't always be here, you know, and you need to be prepared."

Young and carefree, Lucy had turned to her protective brother and smiled, "Don't be silly, Peter, of course you'll always be here. I know you'd never leave me. Now, can we go play with the squirrels, they look awfully bored?"

Now, Lucy had the stones and the tinder but she couldn't bring them altogether to get what she wanted. Exhausted and thoroughly frustrated with herself and her naivety, the girl threw the chipped stones down and huffed.

If Edmund was here he would tell her she had a face like a rotten turnip.

Resigning herself to a long, cold night, the child pulled her travelling cloak – taken from the Treasure Room – tightly round her thin form and pillowed her head on her arm. She could sleep in the depths of the underground stores but she didn't want to, it felt too dark and claustrophobic down there. She would sleep up here were the night sky was the ceiling and the stars were her companions. Through heavily lidded eyes, Lucy watched the moon gleam in the blackness, before she fell into a restless sleep.

Plagued by nightmares of the waxy, dead faces of her brothers and sister and the blood and pain of the battle-field, the last Pevensie did not slumber well. She would wake with a start and have to remind herself where she was. She was not on that bloodied, stained hill by the How but at Cair Paravel and she was safe – for now.

* * *

Morning sunlight bathed her smooth face in a warm glow and she blinked slowly. Her gaze came to focus on her right arm which sprawled out in front of her. On the underside of her forearm was the shadow of a scar, a pale crescent moon. She traced it gently with her fingers, feeling the almost indiscernible ridge of long ago healed skin.

Thinking back, she remembered how she had got it. In her mind it seemed so long ago, half her life-time past in fact. It was before Edmund turned nasty, when he was just her good-humoured older brother, who used to idolise Peter like some kind of superhero. The two of them had been playing in the back garden; ironically, the then nine year old Edmund had been pretending to be a knight. He had a stick sword and everything. Lucy had been delighted to play along as the damsel in the distress whom he had to save from the most mortal of perils.

It had all gone wrong when Lucy had decided to become a knight too. She had decided she was fed up with constantly being saved and wanted a bit of the action herself. Edmund, being the kind older brother, had agreed she too could be a knight and fashioned her own stick-sword for her. Things had been going well until the greenhouse got in the way. After one particularly violent flourish from the young boy, Lucy had found herself stumbling backwards, straight through the glass pane behind her.

The shock and pain had been horrific.

To Edmund's credit however, he had dealt with the screaming little girl and the fast flowing blood incredibly well. He'd told her to calm down whilst he bandaged her arm (with his white shirt, Mother was not best pleased) and then he'd fetched a grown-up. Lucy had had the scar ever since.

But now she didn't have an older brother to look after her or a sister. Shards of pain, as sharp as the glass that had cut her arm, splintered into Lucy's heart but she fought to keep them at bay. It wouldn't do to cry. She was done crying.

Feeling rather weak, the girl climbed gingerly to her feet and surveyed the ruins around her. It was time, she decided, to move on.


	4. Her New Friend

**Author's Note - Thanks to the kind reviewers! You really make my day! But where did the others go who read the first chapter?! Don't desert me! :(**

**This chapter, I believe, is a bit more light hearted. So if you thought the grief stuff was getting a bit heavy here is your relief. And sorry in advance for me getting carried away with plants. I think I got a bit over-excited. **

Edmund's shield was very heavy. It was like a leaden weight on Lucy thin shoulders. She hadn't realised it would be so difficult to take with her. Whenever she had seen her brothers travel with their shields on their backs they had never look affected; you could hardly tell the shields weighed anything at all. But then again, they were much bigger and stronger than her.

She was reluctant to let it go though. It wouldn't do to find herself defenceless later on. However, the question was, would the shield be any _use_ considering she could barely hold it up? The sword on her hip was weighty too. She couldn't even consider abandoning that though. That weapon could prove to save her life. Once again, if she could wield it…

Finally, the little girl decided that she would keep both of her brother's tools. Peter had always told her to keep handy things and not throw away what you have. She would never get a chance at procuring another shield or a blade. Therefore she must persevere.

Lucy was heading south. She wasn't _really _sure why, but she had a vague notion that she would find more help in the south than in any other direction. Perhaps it was because she remembered that in the old days they had had some allies in the south: Archenland for example. With the majority of the Narnians having fought in the Battle of Beruna, there would be very few left and she decided that it was best to seek help from neighbouring nations. Also, if there _were _any Narnians left they would be away from the Telmarine fortress – closer to safety and in hiding.

What Lucy would do once she found some friendly creatures was another matter.

Filtering through the emerald leaves in the canopy of the forest was yellowy sunlight, bathing the dark underworld below in a glorious radiance. Lucy smiled slightly to herself, enjoying the fortunate weather. Her muscles may have ached and her throat may have been parched but she couldn't help but love her country, despite all it had done to her life.

As she stepped on a leafy pile, the small girl spotted a tiny vole shooting out from the undergrowth. It was squeaking frantically. Lucy gasped in surprise.

"Hallo!" she began, but the vole had already vanished. Most likely it wasn't a Talking Beast but the young Queen couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Trudging despondently on, Lucy kept her eyes peeled for anymore movement in the otherwise completely silent forest. She scanned the branches that hung over her path for squirrels or birds – hoping to catch a flash of speckled breast or a bushy russet tail. Once or twice she thought she saw a pair of beady, beetle-black eyes staring out at her from between the winding, crooked limbs but when she looked closer there was nothing there. It was severely frustrating.

As she observed her surroundings her concentration soon slipped and the young child found herself recognising familiar trees and plants. The shocks of vibrant colour that graced the green foliage were comforting reminders that she wasn't completely alone in the world. Occasionally she would wander off her chosen track to gently pick a flower from a springy stem and stroke the soft flimsy petals. They were so fragile and delicate, tiny shelled membranes which could tear at any moment. Lucy felt as though if she rubbed the petals between her fingers they would dissolve into nothingness.

People always said Queen Lucy had a way with nature. She remembered when Mr. Tumnus had told her that she looked like she was part of the forest, just as much as the dryads. Oh how she missed Mr Tumnus, her dear, dear friend! It was horrible to think he had died all those years ago. She hadn't even been able to say goodbye to him. One day she would have just never returned to Cair Paravel and he would have believed her lost for good.

The two of them used to go for strolls in the forest, a few miles away from the castle, or sometimes they would just wander on the beach and paddle in the sea. On their walks they would meet all sorts of creatures: dryads of course, satyrs, badgers, rabbits, hedgehogs, foxes, boars, fauns….and all of these animals would greet them jovially and with pleasure, going out of their way to be kind to the young Queen. Now Narnia was empty.

Lucy loved the dryads especially. They were strikingly beautiful and so good-natured. For the child monarch, they would sing songs of the forest, the whispers of the trees. Their voices hauntingly enchanting and otherworldly. Lucy wouldn't say their songs were sweet and full of happiness, that would be a lie, but they were still enrapturing none the less. As she thought about the songs, the lonely girl began to hum softly, her high, tuneful voice floating through the deadened trees.

Those same dryads taught her things, things about the plant world. They taught her about the names of flowers, herbs and roots and their uses. As she glanced over the wild flora, Lucy began to name them. It was a game. A game to pass the time and make her feel less alone.

She identified a Marsh Mallow, lurking in the shadows, and recalled it could be used to treat inflammations. A small leafy plant she recognised as Greater Burdock, which could be used to clear throat infections. Comfrey! That was brilliant for poultices. Milk Thistle….something to do with the liver. Feverfew, Peter had used that for migraines when he got stressed. Buckthorn, Lucy wracked her brains for its medicinal values and then remembered its oil was used to spread on burns.

Absentmindedly, Lucy found her fingers digging roots out of the soft soil and slipping some samples of the said plants into her satchel. They could come in useful later.

It was as she was snapping some bulbs of wild garlic off their stems that Lucy heard the sound. A soft chirruping, like something was warbling deep in its throat. Turning her head ever so slowly, the girl's eyes widened when she caught sight of a robin perched on a twig jutting away from a tree trunk. With small beady eyes it surveyed her, head twisting from one side to the other. Its little beak opened and closed as it cheeped. Obviously it wasn't able to talk but that didn't matter, Lucy was just glad of another living thing.

Climbing slowly and tentatively to her feet, the small child approached the bird gingerly holding out a flat palm in a gesture of friendship. Her large blue eyes connected with its gaze and she smiled encouragingly.

"Its okay," she whispered, "I'm a friend."

The little creature's scarlet breast heaved with apprehension and nerves and Lucy held her breath. What if he flew away? Then she would be alone again! Desperate for the tiny bird to accept her, Lucy felt her body tense so rigidly it actually hurt to move. She tried to calm herself. _Relax_.

_Whrrrr. _The robin made that curious little noise again, fluttering its wings uncertainly. Lucy was a metre away.

Extending her arm even further, the child hoped against hope that the mute bird would understand the gesture. It cocked its head. Lucy bit her lip.

And then the creature flapped its chestnut wings and hopped daintily onto her upturned palm. For a moment it seemed to be considering things, its miniscule black feet pacing her hand so her skin tingled pleasantly, and then it plopped down into her cupped grasp. Its feathers were so tickly and downy they made her want to giggle and she found, to her surprise, it barely weighed anything.

Lucy let out the breath she'd been holding and grinned, delightedly. She had _finally _made a new friend.

"I shall call you Mr. Robin," she informed the red-breasted bird.


	5. Falling Down the Ravine

**Author's Note: Thank you very much for reviewing guys! I hope this chapter lives up to expectations. I lengthened it especially for terrorofthehighway! Enjoy it. **

_The locomotive was pulling up at the station. Torrents of children were pooling onto the platform: laughing, shouting, playing. A plume of smoke rose elegantly from the chimney of the engine, rising slowly up into the cool air and then dissipating into nothingness. Bags, books, coats and hats were thrust into arms, dropped on the floor, filling trolleys and being tossed onto into one of the many carriages. _

_Little girls would kiss their mothers and fathers goodbye and clamber readily onto the train - full of anticipation and excitement. Soon the carriages were bursting with shrieks and giggles as limbs overflowed from the windows, waving to their parents. _

_Two lone figures stood in the shadows of a column. _

"_Come on Lucy, you need to get on the train." Peter tugged gently on his sister's small hand, trying to be encouraging. _

"_I don't want to go." The girl protested stubbornly, clutching her brother's leg with no sign of ever letting go. Her fingers dug firmly into the material of his flannel trousers. _

"_Susan will be there," the older boy reminded her, hoping that would reassure her. _

"_Susan's not you." Lucy said this and stuck her bottom lip out. Her dark blue eyes were glassy and Peter knew she was on the verge of tears but was holding back with fierce determination. He was certainly touched by his youngest sister's love for him, her complete loyalty, but it was not helping matters. _

"_Lucy," he began, trying to coax her with his kind voice, "This is your first day at school. You have to go. If you don't go now then you will never make any new friends."_

"_I don't want to make any new friends. I have you," Lucy replied petulantly. _

_Peter hated upsetting his little sister. He loved her with all his heart and did all he could to make her happy. When his friends were playing out in the street with their football and they asked him to join he would decline because he was already playing with Lucy in their garden. He could never let her down. _

_However, when his mother had asked whether he could drop her off at the station whilst she visited their elderly neighbour, Mrs. Boot, in hospital, he hadn't realised it would be such a difficult job. They were sending Lucy off to boarding school St. Finbar's, the same as Susan attended. Susan had left the day before to fulfil her role as Prefect. Peter thought this quite insensitive as Lucy had been worrying about leaving home and starting a new school for weeks. She could have done with a helping hand. Couldn't Susan have shirked her duties just this once? _

_Even Ed wasn't here, the little beast. He had claimed to have better things to do than say goodbye to his silly baby sister. _

_The golden haired boy gazed down at the top of Lucy's head and sighed. This was going to crush her but he was fast running out of time and options. Already he could see the train wardens shutting the doors. Bending over, Peter grabbed Lucy's holdall off the stone floor and scooped her up in his other arm. She squeaked in surprise and then, realising what he planned to do, began struggling in earnest. _

"_No! Peter! Please, no!" _

_Each of her cries wounded him deeply and he dearly wanted to put her down, hug her and tell her she could go home. That was not the case though. Instead, he steeled himself and hurried over to a still open door of the scarlet train. Once there he bundled her in, along with her bag, and slammed the door firmly behind her. By this time, the whistle was blowing and the train was about to leave. _

_Stepping away from the doors, Peter scanned the windows in the hope of seeing his little sister waving out at him or at least looking at him. He caught sight of her copper-brown hair through the glass and raised his arm in farewell. She merely stared at him blankly, a betrayed look in her eyes. His gut wrenched with guilt when he saw the floodgates had opened and her cheeks were shiny with fresh tears. But then her face was gone and all that was left of the train was a trail of thick white smoke, hanging in the station air. _

_Peter's heart felt heavy as he turned and left. _

Lucy blinked the memory from her mind and she tried to focus on the world around her; the Narnian world. That horrible train journey was long ago. Peter had left her for good now.

There was a rustling in the leaves above her head and she smiled as she spotted Mr. Robin's fiery red breast through the gnarled branches of the tree. She didn't really know what he was doing but obviously he was enjoying it, she determined that from the excited chirruping and _whrrring _he did as he bustled around. An acorn plopped out of the canopy and hit the floor with a little thump. Mr. Robin appeared seconds later, his miniscule face flushed with pride, as he landed beside the acorn and began pecking fiercely at its hard shell.

The human girl allowed an amused chuckle to escape her lips as she watched the bird fail and fail again to crack open the acorn. Every time he hit it the object would roll out of his reach. He would then hop after it and try again. Each attempt was just as unfruitful as the last.

Eventually, taking pity on her poor befuddled friend, Lucy crouched down and plucked the acorn from his vigorous prodding. Mr. Robin squeaked in protest.

"I'm only trying to help, Mr. Robin," she told him, sagely, "Look, see…" She took out her dagger and then pierced the hard casing with the sharp point. Then she placed the broken up acorn on the floor for the small bird. The robin stared uncertainly at the pieces of shell for a moment before flitting forward and snapping it up.

"Usually I would ask for a thank you but I know that you cannot talk so that's all right."

As if understanding the young Queen's words, Mr. Robin finished his snack and then flew up to land on her hand again. There he _whrrred_ happily. Lucy smiled delightedly. The two of them continued companionably.

* * *

Lucy was fairly certain that she was coming upon the boundaries of Narnian territory. The farther south she got the less dense the trees became and the weather warmed even more. What she would do once she actually reached the border she was not positively certain. Hopefully, she would receive a sign. Maybe even from Aslan himself.

Despite all that had happened Lucy had still not surrendered her love and faith in the Great Lion. He may not have come to her nor her family in their hour of greatest need and he may not have appeared to her now, when she was alone and desperate, but she could not give up on him. Perhaps he _was _helping her, sending her little signs such as Mr. Robin. When she had desperately needed a friend, the red-breasted bird had appeared. Was that really a coincidence?

Her love of Aslan, her love of Narnia and her love of her dead siblings were what kept the young girl going.

In her closed hand the youngster held the comfortingly hard and heavy chess piece which had belonged to her second oldest brother. It was cool in her clammy palm and she drew reassurance from its presence. Her thumb gently traced the contours of the figure: its strong jaw line, the spiky, pointed crown and the rippling robes. She stroked the smooth skin of its metal cheek. If she imagined very hard she could almost picture the chess king to be a real king, just in miniature. Edmund.

Closing her eyes and fiercely fighting back the tears that were threatening to leak, Lucy didn't register the ravine that had fallen into her path until it was too late. Her bare foot connected with thin air and she had just enough time to let out a gasp of shock before she plummeted over the edge of the cliff. Mr. Robin shrieked in dismay and plunged after her. There was nothing he could do, however, for he was barely bigger than her hand.

Fortunately the precipice was not too vertical and the young girl found herself hitting solid ground, albeit rather steep, and she began to roll down the slope. Her fragile body was tossed and thrown from rocky outcrop to sharp bracken until she landed in a broken heap at the bottom of the valley. There she lay, stunned and hurting. A thick carpet of moss had cushioned the impact of her fall and had it not been there then Lucy may have been more severely injured. The rapid descent could have even proved fatal. As it was, the Queen escaped with a few cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. Not that that wasn't painful enough for a ten year old to withstand.

Mr. Robin flitted fearfully around her head. Tweeting occasionally and feeling utterly hopeless.

Lucy moaned and attempted to lever herself into a sitting position. The shield was digging into her back. However, her body would not cooperate, though, as her limbs were weak and aching. When she put pressure on her left shoulder, a spine of agony shot down her arm and she cried out in pain. The previously hard-fought tears spilled down her chalk-white cheeks but this time for a different reason. The little girl desperately wanted her mother. Or her brother.

Overcome with pain, Lucy passed out.

Loyally, Mr. Robin landed tentatively on her chest and pecked gently at the skin of her neck. She didn't even stir. Realising that she wouldn't be moving for awhile, the bird settled down to wait.

* * *

Her eyes flickered open for a moment and Lucy made out the hazy outline of a man. She wasn't sure how old, her gaze was too fleeting. Nevertheless, she did make out the darkness of his features. He had black hair. _Could it be Edmund?_ Lucy's lethargic brain thought hopefully. No, don't be silly, Edmund's dead. Then the girl fell once again into the comfort of unconsciousness.

* * *

Warmth on the young child's face awakened her and she opened her heavy lids to see the flickering depths of a crackling fire. The orangey-red flames entranced her for a moment and she stared into the merrily burning blaze. Occasionally one of the flames would jump higher than the rest, as if trying to escape the confines of the main bulk of the fire, and float off into the air like a leaf being lost in the expansive ocean. It was now that Lucy realised it was night for the sky was a black and soft as the darkest velvet. Thousands of stars littered the heavens and Lucy was reminded of the times she used to lay out with Susan on a clear night and star-gaze. They would take a midnight bathe in the lazy, lapping waves of the sea and then throw themselves on the luminescent, pale beach to stare up into the dark sky.

Lost in memories once again, Lucy almost didn't feel the pain that enveloped the majority of her small frame. However, when she breathed in she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest and immediately she felt every forgotten bump, scratch, cut and graze. Not least the throbbing in her shoulder. Tears once again sprung to her eyes and she cursed herself angrily. _I said no more crying!_

It was as Lucy was thinking this that she realised she hadn't even considered why she was by a fire in the first place. Hadn't she tried and failed before the ignite flames? But then who had lit this fire? And who was the man she recalled carrying her in her state of semi-consciousness? A Telmarine? Lucy gulped at the thought.

Craning her neck at an uncomfortable angle, the child attempted to scan the objects in her vicinity. There was no person about. Filled with a bit more courage and curiosity, Lucy gingerly levered herself to a sitting position. The same flash of agony cut through her shoulder but she bit her lip and ignored it. Now was the perfect time to escape. She couldn't let pain stop her.

Her sharp eyes caught sight of her shield, sword and bag resting against a tree stump and she sighed with relief. She wasn't sure where she would have been without them. Now all she had to do was stand and then she could grab her things and leave.

Hardening herself to the immense pain, Lucy clambered quickly to her feet, intending to work through the hurt as swiftly as possible. As it was, the agony was so unexpectedly intense that she nearly collapsed again but somehow she managed to retain her standing position. The child willed herself on, clutching her injured arm to her unconsciously.

It was just as she was attempting to pick up her ridiculously heavy shield up, one-handed, that the man returned.

Lucy froze.

The man froze for a millisecond too. He looked quite surprised that the young girl was up and about. It was as he stood there, in the flickering illumination of the fire, that Lucy realised that she was mistaken, he was not a man but a boy. Yes, he was older than her, but still an adolescent nonetheless. At an estimate, Lucy would guess that he was around seventeen. _Peter's age_, her mind added.

"I see you're up," he said suddenly, "I'm glad. I was getting worried."

Lucy still stared. Her eyes wide. She wasn't sure whether to run (not that she would be moving very fast) or talk. Usually so at ease with words and strangers, the youngest Queen was stunned into silence.

"You know, I think you should be lying back down. You look very pale." The boy moved forward and Lucy stepped backwards, almost stumbling over her own feet. "Look, I'm here to help."

"I….who are you?" Lucy had finally found her tongue but her voice was wavering and quiet. Her legs were shaking slightly as the ache in her body renewed its grip.

"My name is Sebastian," he supplied, "And I _really _advise you to sit….whoa!"

The young man leapt forwards and caught the child before she fell. Lucy lay limply in his arms.

**So what do you think? Tell me if the story is getting boring or if there are any glaring mistakes you pick out. Critism is welcome - well, as welcome as it can be :D! REVIEW!**


	6. Promises Can be Hollow

**Author's Note - sorry for shortness. Thanks for reviews! In a rush! Enjoy!**

When Lucy woke up again she felt very groggy. Her mind was slow and confused and her actions laboured. Somehow, though, she managed to complete the task of sitting up and once again she found herself staring at the young man who called himself Sebastian. This time she could see him better because night had passed and daylight hours had enveloped the land.

She could pick out the details of his face more clearly now. Looking at him she saw: slightly tanned skin, the same raven-black hair she'd picked out before, large dark blue eyes and a strong jaw-line grazed with stubble. He looked quite wild in her opinion. Those eyes especially held some rugged, rogue element – they danced like stormy seas.

But was he a friend? Did she trust him? Lucy had always been the trusting type; she took everything at face value and tried to see the best in people. But her most recent time in Narnia had left her more hardened and suspicious. Her siblings' deaths were slowly tearing away her childhood and naivety.

It was at this moment that the young man turned from where he was watching the flickering flames of the slowly dying fire and faced her. Lucy started with surprise. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.

"Hello again," he smiled slightly and began to walk towards where the small girl was lying – seemingly on a pile of clothes and blankets.

"Hallo," the youngest Pevensie whispered, never one to shirk her manners. Mother would be displeased if she was not courteous. So would Susan. Or so would _have _Susan.

"As I said before you collapsed," the boy said, "I am Sebastian."

"Are you from Archenland?"

There were only Telmarines in Narnia but Lucy wondered whether this boy had passed over the border from Archenland to her country. After all she was very close to the boundaries. She hoped he would say yes, that would put a lot of her worries at ease. She and her siblings had always been close allies with the Archenlandians so someone from that region may help her.

The boy paused a moment, looking slightly startled by her blunt question. His blue eyes searched hers as if looking for some kind of trick. Seemingly coming to a decision, Sebastian spoke.

"Yes. I am from Archenland." He nodded though it seemed to Lucy he was completing the action to reassure himself more than her. She frowned, a little perturbed.

"I'm from Narnia."

"I guessed," Sebastian replied.

"But I'm not a Telmarine." Lucy found herself desperately wanting to clarify that. She wanted to remove herself as far as possible from the people who had murdered her family.

"I….didn't think you were."

"Oh, well then that's good."

Whilst they were speaking, Sebastian had crouched down and had been sifting through some bags which were scattered across the ground. His large hands rummaged in the material and then he seemed to have found what he was looking for because he pulled out a small piece of smooth wood. Lucy frowned, puzzled.

Sebastian stood up with a determined but reassuring look on his face.

"You have dislocated your arm. I need to relocate it before it can cause serious damage. This," he held up the wood, "Is for you to bite. It will hurt."

Lucy stared at him as if he was mad.

"I-Its all right," she protested, "It doesn't hurt that much."

"Aw, don't lie to me, little one," he grinned amusedly, his blue eyes becoming less stormy as they warmed with kindness. "It will be over in a few seconds, I _promise_."

* * *

"_Lucy, I promise I will never doubt you again," Edmund said quietly as the two of them sat curled up on a sofa nursing hot chocolates. Their older siblings were both fast asleep, exhausted by the day's events. Lucy stared at her dark-haired brother through the half light of the dim lamp, her irises flickering. A small frown creased her brow. _

"_That's a hard promise to keep, Ed," she whispered. _

"_I know, but still…" he smiled softly, "I promise." _

* * *

"_The other girls will leave you alone. I promise things will get better Lucy," Susan stated firmly, wrapping her slender arms around her little sister's trembling body. Lucy buried her face farther into the older girl's arms, dampening her white shirt with salty tears. "Come on Lucy, you're stronger than this." _

"_No," the youngest Pevensie mumbled, her words hitching in her throat, "I'm not. You all are but I'm not! They won't ever leave me be, Susan. They think I'm strange and they hate me for it. I won't ever be able to fit in!" _

"_Lucy." Susan gently extricated her sister's head from her chest and held Lucy's chin up to face hers. "You have to make yourself fit in. You have to forget all about Narnia and what happened. That's in the past. Be a normal girl."_

_Lucy looked horror-struck, her eyes darkening with shock, "Forget…about Narnia?! Su, how could you?"_

"_It's easy, you just have to try, Lucy," Susan said emotionlessly, "And if you do, then I promise things will be all right."_

* * *

"_What if you all die?" Lucy asked staring out at the massive field which rolled down from the How. Her heart clenched with fear. _

"_I promise you, Lu, we won't," Peter's strong voice informed her, confidently. His large hand slipped her small one into his grip and he squeezed reassuringly. Glancing down at her he gifted her one of his dazzling smiles which he reserved for purely his siblings. _

"_Promises don't mean a lot," Lucy remarked, delicately. _

"_Well they do to me; I don't break my promises."_

* * *

So many promises had been made to the young Queen in her life and not all of them had been kept. It hurt her dearly when they weren't and she wasn't sure whether she trusted the words anymore. Words were meaningless; actions meant more.

That was why Lucy wasn't really convinced when a complete stranger offered her a promise. However, the pain in her arm had started up again in earnest and surely it would be a bad thing should it go away? She would be strong like Susan wanted and withstand the agony of having it relocated.

"Well, do it quickly then," Lucy whispered, her lip quivering.

Sebastian grinned encouragingly and hurried over. When the smile graced his lips Lucy was reminded unquestionably of Peter and suddenly she wasn't quite so worried. She took the wood she was offered and placed it tentatively in her mouth. Then she braced herself. Gently, the boy held her arm in those veined, calloused hands of his and got a good grip.

Little did Lucy know that the position she was in now mimicked her eldest brother's almost precisely all those days ago.

"Will you tell me….ahh!" Lucy let out a gasp of pain as Sebastian acted before she could panic and twisted her shoulder back into place. Much to both their surprises no scream escaped her mouth throughout the process. The young man looked suitably impressed when he sat back from her.

"You are brave," he commented.

"Not as brave as Susan," Lucy murmured under her breath before spitting out the wooden piece.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," the child shook her head and then looked at Sebastian with confused eyes; "You have told me your name. But why have you not asked mine?"

"Well, er….I thought that maybe you didn't want to tell me your name. I didn't want to pry where I had no right to."

"My name is Lucy," Lucy said, holding out a hand like she had over a thousand years ago. This time, however, she neglected to impart her surname. It was not necessary. And once again she received the same perplexed expression. Sebastian's dark eyebrow rose and his lip curled slightly.

"Um…"

"You shake….oh it doesn't matter." In all honesty, the young child no longer had the patience or the strength to persist in the action. She suddenly felt exhausted and just wanted to lie down again.

Unexpectedly, though, she felt warmth on her hand as Sebastian enveloped it in his palm. "Like this?" he asked, hopefully.

"Yes." Lucy felt a small, relieved smile work its way onto her face as she shook hands with the Archenlandian.

"Good. Now, we have introductions out of the way, you look as if you could do with some more rest."

"Are you going to leave me now?" Lucy queried. She found that she didn't want the youth to leave anymore. After what he'd done for her and the way he acted made her feel somewhere close to safe – protected even.

"No, no!" Sebastian said immediately then paused, "That is if you want me to stay?"

"Yes, I think I do."

* * *

It was midday. Lucy's ribs had been bandaged expertly by Sebastian and her others grazes and cuts had been attended to. The two of them were in the process of eating lunch. The young girl wasn't very hungry but her companion insisted that she ate to keep her strength up. It was important for her to help her body to mend by giving it lots of energy with which to do it with.

She was in the process of attempting to eat a salmon cake. The fish was compacted down into a salty patty-like thing and padded out with bread crumbs and herbs. Sebastian called it travelling food. Lucy had never tasted anything like it and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to do again. However, that was all that Sebastian seemed to carry with him: salted meats, fish and nuts. The child didn't know how he could survive on such a diet.

The ravine that Lucy had fallen in the day before was their resting place. They were camped in the bottom of it, by the river that ran through. Lucy had no idea of the name of the fast running waterway and Sebastian wasn't certain either. He just called it The River and was done with it.

Looking up at the coarse, steep slopes that led into the valley – riddled with rocky outcrops and gorse bushes – the girl was astonished as to how on earth she survived. It was so high. But the fall had happened so quickly she hadn't had time to judge the distance she travelled. Everything had been a blur of pain and fear. She was just thankful that Sebastian had found her. Otherwise she would have been alone and wounded. Suddenly she was struck with a thought.

"I've lost my chess piece!" she choked. It almost felt as if she'd lost her brother all over again. That figurine was her connection to Edmund and yet she'd just lost it. When she fell she must have dropped it and now she would never find it again. A lump formed heavily in her throat. Why did she have to lose _everything_?

Sebastian looked startled by her outburst but then his face lit up.

"Do you mean _this _chess piece?" he asked, producing the golden king from one of his many pockets in his jerkin with a flourish.

"Oh, Sebastian! Thank you!" Lucy cried, joyfully and took the piece as it was handed to her. The horrible feeling of loss had been filled just a tiny bit as the cold metal cooled her skin.

"Talking of things you've lost. Does this bird have anything to do with you?" Sebastian said, gesturing to a nearby fallen log on which a tiny, crimson-breasted creature sat. His beady eyes were sparkling and bright as he _whrrred_ happily. When Lucy spotted him he fluttered towards her excitedly.

"Mr. Robin!"


	7. Who Won the War

**Thanks for the review.**

Sebastian didn't talk a lot. Lucy had found that out almost immediately. He preferred to listen, his face dark and solemn. That was all right though because she, for once, didn't feel like holding a conversation either. It was simpler for the two of them to keep their pasts behind them and just take the company of the other for granted. There was no need to pry.

Instead, Lucy spent a lot of her time speaking to Mr. Robin, not that he could reply of course. However when his bright little eyes stared at her with such earnestness and trust she felt he did understand her.

The pair had yet to move from the ravine. A kind of homely camp had been created and the two of them went about the daily business of surviving together. Sebastian collected wood for the fire and chopped it up if necessary. He taught the youngster how to ignite the kindling and this time Lucy made a point of learning and watching. Peter would be proud of her. Whilst he did this she would roam the area in search of edible plants to increase the healthiness of their salty, meaty meals. She even persuaded the young man to fish in The River. Sebastian managed to capture a trout and they grilled it on the fire. This routine didn't seem to be changing any time soon.

Lucy wasn't sure why Sebastian was hanging around even. As said before, he didn't know anything about her and had already helped her immensely by fixing her arm.

In all honesty, after a while, the youngster had realised she could have used her cordial to heal herself but for one she didn't want to offend the young man, two, she didn't want to waste it on such trivial injuries and three; she didn't want to rouse Sebastian's suspicions or allow him to recognise her. She was just Lucy now. Not Lucy Pevensie. Not Queen Lucy or Lucy the Valiant. Just Lucy the Lost Girl.

So even though she _was _glad of his company and his invaluable knowledge to do with fire making and hunting, Lucy didn't know why he didn't move on and leave her. Or go home. Did he not have some life to return to? A family? Though maybe, Lucy hated to entertain the thought, he too had experienced tragedy in his life and had left like her to find a new start.

Perhaps they could begin this new start together.

But what was Lucy hoping to gain from her future, what were her plans and aims and goals? Was she trying to get home? Should she go in search for Aslan? Even though he had deserted her. Was she trying to create a _completely _different life for herself without her siblings? She could get a job in Archenland maybe, Sebastian might help, and then she could….well, she didn't know….

None of those options really appealed to her. A small voice in the back of her mind was clamouring to be heard and she struggled not to listen. She wasn't sure whether she should even entertain the thought. It was scary and huge and ultimately suicidal. Nevertheless, the youngster was not known as Queen Lucy the Valiant for nothing and she decided, after much deliberation, that she would not wallow here in her misery forever but do something good, something noble. Lucy, despite her tender age, decided that she would do what her brothers and sister had not managed and that was raise an army big enough and strong enough to defeat the Telmarines. It would be hard, yes, but somehow she would manage it. _That's what Peter would have wanted…_

Well that's what she told herself. In reality, if her eldest brother was still alive, he would be telling her not to be so stupid. He would be telling her to _run_. Run and hide. Peter never wanted to see her hurt but he wasn't here to stop her. Therefore Lucy would follow through with her plan and fool herself into believing it was what Peter would have wanted. She knew it wasn't true but that didn't matter. This is what she wanted to do. It would give her some peace of mind. A purpose to her life. And if she died, so what?

The sun had slid behind the clouds and behind it left a darkened Narnia: trees shadowy and tall, walls of the ravine even steeper and more rugged than in the light. Everything looked grim. Except their little fire that flickered and jumped like a beacon of survival and hope. Illuminating the space around it with a warm glow.

Lucy was grateful for the heat as her hands and feet were turning blue with the cold.

She edged closer to the blaze and revelled in the orangey light. Her pale face looked less deathly in the flickering flames. A few of her cuts and grazes were highlighted by the shine however making them look more gruesome than before and more striking.

Across the inferno of oranges, reds and yellows Sebastian watched her carefully. She was young, _so _young, he hadn't expected that. And hurt. Yes, she was hurt and damaged beyond belief. A child matured beyond her years. He'd seen plenty of them in his past. War and famine did that to a nation; death was a regular visitor. Nevertheless, on this innocent, youthful face guilt and loss looked foreign and all the more terrible. If he looked then he could see reflected back in her cerulean blue eyes the slaughter of hundreds.

Suddenly she looked up and he felt his body tense with apprehension, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Its cold, isn't it?"

Whatever he had expected her to do or say it wasn't that. Such a simple comment, ordinary and commonplace. It threw him for a moment.

"Um…yes it is," he nodded effectively ending that conversation before it had even begun. He cursed himself.

They lapsed into silence once more. Sebastian glanced around, looking for inspiration, something to fill the awkward void which had just opened up. He had never been good a small talk. His father always reprimanded him for poor manners and people skills.

"I think you would be less cold," he said, "If you wore shoes." He jerked his raven head at the girl's naked feet, as usual soiled with dirt and mud.

"I guess you're right," Lucy admitted.

"Why don't you wear shoes? I mean, even sandals would be better than bare feet, right?"

"No, I never want to wear shoes again." Lucy's statement was blunt and heartfelt. Sebastian's eyebrows rose with shock.

"Er…why?"

"The dryads have no need of shoes so why should I?"

"Dryads? I'm sorry; I don't know what they are." The young man looked honestly puzzled as he waited to be told. Lucy was surprised; she would have thought they had dryads in Archenland. Dryads were everywhere; just like trees.

"You really don't know?" the chestnut haired girl asked. When she still received a blank look she shrugged. "Dryads are people of the trees." There was no need to extend the explanation; even Lucy didn't know the exact origins of the magical creatures.

"Well, they're your feet," Sebastian smiled slightly, "But you should take better care of them."

"I'll bear that in mind." Lucy grinned back, her eyes sparkling warmly.

"If you're cold do you want to borrow my cloak? In fact, that's not a question. Here's my cloak, wear it." As he said this, the youth unwrapped the brown cloak from around himself and passed it over to the protesting girl with a firm look. Lucy understood that his tone brokered no argument and with a sigh she took the proffered item. She was thankful for Sebastian's generosity though, as she shrugged the cloak on. Its texture was rough and scratchy but she found she didn't mind.

Glancing over at the boy she offered him a grateful albeit rather shy smile. He flashed his teeth back at her and once again Lucy was reminded of her lost brothers. They used to care for her like this. A lump formed in her throat and she fought back tears that threatened to fall. She growled inside her head. _No crying. You can't cry again. Pull yourself together, Lucy. Sebastian wouldn't understand. He would ask and then you would have to tell him. _

"Is that better?" the Archenlandian asked.

"Lots, thank you, Sebastian."

"Good."

Lucy knew that she would have to tell this kind man at some point about her past despite her reluctance now. She was planning on raising an army and for that she had to have a reason. Not that she needed to tell Sebastian anything about her plans. She could just up and leave and begin the fight alone. However, she didn't really want to go this alone. This adolescent was her newest friend and she sort of wanted to keep him. If she left there was no knowing whether she would find anyone else.

Therefore she would have to involve him in her plans and tell him about her past. Or maybe she didn't. It was well known that plenty of people disliked the reign of Telmarines. She could continue her new identity and pretend that she just wished to overthrow the King because he was evil and did nothing for his people. Without her siblings she was less recognisable as a Queen of Old. She was just a girl, a plain child called Lucy. Even so, she was still allowed to hate the Telmarines and wage war on them if she wished.

With this thought in mind, Lucy glanced at Sebastian who was busy restoring the fire and feeding it with twigs. Now would be as good a time as any to broach the subject.

"Sebastian…." She began.

"Yes, Lucy," he replied without looking up.

"What would you say if I told you I wanted to fight the Telmarines and usurp King Miraz?"

"I would tell you that you were crazy. For one, you are a mere child – how old are you, twelve?"

"Ten," Lucy said quietly.

"Exactly. And the Telmarines are a huge force of power with many men on their side. They are merciless, even when fighting children."

_Well, I know that_, Lucy thought, bitterly.

"You have no one on your side, do you?"

"No."

"Well then…"

"But I'm planning on finding some, whether you'll help me or not," Lucy finished boldly, jutting out her chin defiantly.

"Whether _I _help you?" Sebastian sounded incredulous, his eyebrows vanishing into his hair. Lucy felt her heart plummet, by the looks of things her companion didn't seem to want to help her. The girl felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and confusion.

"Without you then."

Sebastian shot her an unfathomable look.

"And also, it wouldn't be very clever of you to set out on such an impossible task with the wrong target in mind."

"What do you mean?"

"King Miraz is dead, didn't you know? Lord Sopespian is now King of the Telmarines and ruler of Narnia. I thought if you lived in Narnia then you would have known that."

Lucy's face was a mask of shock.

"H-How did he die?" She thought that if the Telmarines had killed her family then the King would have survived – being on the winning side.

"High King Peter killed him in a one-on-one combative battle to the death. The young man was a very skilled swordsman. It's a shame he perished afterwards."

The last Pevensie's heart lurched with a sudden excruciating pain and she gasped audibly. Sebastian's face filled with concern.

"Lucy, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Lucy nodded vigorously. She curled her hands into fists and dug her fingernails into her palms to stop her from crying. When she looked later she would find bloodied crescents from the pressure.

"Well anyway," Sebastian continued uncertainly, "King Miraz is dead. King Peter is dead. The kingdom fell to the person who won the battle and that was Lord Sopespian."


End file.
